“I reckon naught o’ these Crowner’s quests and a pack o’ lawyers and police fellers!” said he, with decision. “Allus goos a-huntin’ the wrong hare, they does! Don’t us as has lived in these here parts all our lives know well enough that this young man left a pack o’ mortal enemies behind him when he went away, seven years it is agoo? Ain’t there men round about here as had sweethearts and lassies whose heads he turned with his ways? Wasn’t he allus a-making love to all the good-looking young women? Doon’t ’ee tell me!—there’s more nor one man this side the downs as ’ud be glad o’ the chance of getting his knife into Master Guy Markenmore—or a pistol-bullet, either! That’s how he come by his death, so I do think!”
There was a murmur of general assent. An old man’s voice arose out of it.
“The ways of Providence be uncommon curious!” he piped. “Shouldn’t wonder if what Ben there say be of the nature of truth. Revenge be a mighty strong weapon in a man’s right hand, and it do grow all the stronger wi’ keeping, like good ale. Aye, sure, it med be a matter o’ revenge——”
Blick presently went away, to think over this suggestion. Grimsdale came to him again, looking mysterious.
“There’s a young man out there in the garden wants to see you—alone, in secret,” he said.
“One of Mrs. Tretheroe’s grooms,” he answered.
The detective instinct which was Blick’s second nature rose, strong and eager, when he heard this announcement. He, too, glanced at Grimsdale in knowing fashion.
“Didn’t say as much to me,” answered the landlord, “but I should say so. Came hanging round our side-door till he got a sight of me, and then asked if you were in, and if he could see you, all to yourself—didn’t want anybody else to know.”
“Bring him in—and tell him nobody will know anything whatever about it,” commanded Blick. “Strictly private, eh?”
Grimsdale glanced at the window, and crossing over to it, drew its curtains. He left the room—to return a minute later with a young man in whipcord clothes and smart Newmarket gaiters; a shrewd-eyed, keen-faced fellow who regarded the detective pretty much as he might have regarded a slippery fox just breaking cover.
“William Pegge, Mr. Blick,” said Grimsdale.
Blick nodded affably to his shy and watchful visitor, and pointed to a chair close to his own by the cheery fire.